Guardians: Untold
by Imaginativum Relator
Summary: Bernadette and June find out they have a become pawns in the fate of the Guardians of Childhood and Humanity. While Bernadette tries to flee from the dark clutches of Pitch Black, June tries to find out who she is and where she comes from. The only clue and weapon the two girls have is a mysterious locket that Bernadette took from a woman murdered by Pitch himself.
1. Chapter 1: The Dream

"I had another nightmare last night,"

"Another one?" The school therapist asked, removing her spectacles in frustration. "I don't understand; we've been working on this for months."

I looked down at the floor; ashamed. She gave a disappointed sigh and then asked: "Is it the one with the creatures or is it the one with the man?"

"The man,"

The middle-aged therapist once more emitted a tiresome sigh.

"You've been dreaming about this man more often suddenly," She expressed with concern. "Why do you think that is?"

I lifted my head slightly and stared at her black clipboard. I had no idea why these dreams were clouding my mind or even why I had them. All I knew was that I had them since I was a kid, but it wasn't until now they have been progressively worse.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

The therapist softly tapped her pen on the arm of the burgundy armchair. I knew she wanted something much more useful, but I didn't have anything.

"Alright," She began, as she shifted her weight to get more comfortable in the chair.

"How about we start from the beginning. How did the nightmare start?"

"Well," I paused as to remember all the details more clearly. "I was in my bed, fast asleep when I felt a dark presence next to my bed,"

The woman scribbled something in her notes.

"Alright, go on,"

"I opened my eyes, and I saw...him,"

"The man?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "He was tall, thin, and his teeth were sharp and terrible. I just looked at him, and he asked me 'Can you see me?' And I answered 'Yes.'"

The woman added something to her clipboard and asked without looking up: "How did you feel when you saw the Man?"

"Well, at first I was confused, but then I grew afraid since the reality of an unknown stranger in my room freaked me out," I explained.

There was a pause as she continued to write. When she finished, she promptly asked me to continue.

"When I answered 'yes' to the man's question he got weird," I detailed. "There was this huge smile on his face that scared me even more, and he started rambling on about a Man in the Moon or whatever, and he looked down at me, with his glassy eyes and…"

"And?"

"And he grabbed me by the throat and squeezed..." Tears began to roll down my face as I rubbed my throat.

"Keep going, Bernadette," The therapist urged. " If we want to get through this then you have to talk to me,"

She looked at me expectedly, and my eyes trailed off to her pen that she tapped.

"I know," I forced out. "It's just really hard,"

"I know, Bernadette, but you'll feel a lot better once you do," She reassured me.

I took a deep breath.

"I couldn't breathe, and everything became fuzzy, then he reached with his hand, and he dug it into my chest. All of a sudden I was in the most agonizing pain I had ever felt. Then he pulled something out of my chest, and I realized that it was my heart, still beating in his hand. He started laughing as he watched me scream. He moved the heart to his lips and took a huge bite out of it like it was an apple." I grimaced. "Blood was dripping down his chin as he leans in close to my face and you know what he said?"

"What?" The therapist asked with her eyes glued to mine.

"He says 'This is all on you, Bernadette. This is all on you.' and I wake up,"

The woman raised her hand to her lips and fiddled with it thoughtfully. She wrote something down and looked up to me and asked; "How old are you in this dream?"

"Seven," I answered.

Her eyebrows jumped as if the answer was a surprising one. She looked down at her clipboard gravely and slowly added her last bit of notes. Finally, she took her glasses off and placed her notes on the table next to her chair. Her messy bun gave a slight wiggle as she adjusted her position to a more reserved one.

"Bernadette," She began with a sorrowful tone. "What I'm going to say to you is going to be really hard to hear and even harder to understand,"

"What? What is it?" I questioned with concern.

She took in a deep breath and explained; " There is a great possibility that these nightmares you've been getting are not just horrible dreams, but are memories that your brain is still trying to process,"

"Memories?" I questioned again, this time with uncertainty. "Um, Mrs. Layton, he ripped my heart out. How is that a memory?

"You see, that's the thing with dreams," she explained. "They're not always a perfect recording of the event. Sometimes it's just a way to process how you felt at that time. The man didn't really rip your heart out, but to you, that trauma felt like someone was ripping it out."

"Trauma?" I asked suspiciously. "Are you saying I had some crazy traumatic event that is affecting me today?"

"Yes," She answered with pity. "Most likely someone molested you when you were very young,"

"That's impossible," I scoffed. "There is no way I could have never been molested in any way. My parents have always kept me safe and away from danger. I never even talked to strangers when I was younger! There is no possible way that I was molested,"

"Bernadette, look at the evidence," She pointed out. "Your insomnia, the reoccurring dreams of monsters, and that man doing horrible things to you; it all points to it,"

"No!" I exclaimed. "There's gotta be a different explanation for this,"

"I'm sorry, Bernadette," She apologized gently. "But, someday you'll have to accept the truth and face your demons,"

I shook my head aggressively. "No, you're wrong," I stood up and grabbed my backpack.

"I'm late for class," I stated and headed out the door.

"Bernadette!" The middle-aged woman called out, but it was too late. I was already out the door and headed toward my first class, Psychology.

There was no way I was molested. I would have remembered, I would have told! The therapist assumptions filled me with anger, how could she know anything? She was a school therapist. They don't see what's actually there. No one does. No one ever does.


	2. Chapter 2: The Woman

It was harder to concentrate in class than I had initially anticipated. The thoughts and images of the scary man plagued my mind as I listened to the lecture. I felt that Mrs. Layton was right about it being memories, but I was pretty sure she was wrong about me being molested. But the question still stood; what was the trauma then?

"Bernadette?"

I snapped back to reality, and I found that my teacher, Mr. Rasmith was waiting patiently for something.

"You weren't paying attention were you?" Mr. Rasmith asked with dismay and with

a book in hand.

I gave a sheepish smile. "No," I answered.

"Bernadette, if you want to continue to be Valedictorian of your graduating class then I would suggest you start paying more attention," Mr. Rasmith chastised with a wagging finger.

"Sorry, Mr. Rasmith," I apologized with a sour look on my face.

Mr. Rasmith nodded and continued with his lecture. I notice there were a few giggles from the student around the room and I sunk lower into my chair. Ever since the nightmares began when I was younger, I either never slept or awoke abruptly in the middle of the night. With all that time, I had decided at a young age to put that time to good use and do my homework or study. Unfortunately, this put me at the top of my class each year ever since the first grade which resulted in my parents expecting grand things from me. When I was in Junior High, they had these plans of me becoming a lawyer, or a doctor, heck even the first woman President of the United States. That's when I tried to avoid studying and started to paint and draw in my spare time instead. My parents didn't appreciate that. They pushed and pushed me to do more and more for my academics, and now here I am. Just a 145lb insomniac nerd who has no friends, no social life, and no excitement.

I was doodling a boy who fell asleep at his desk when I started to have chills around my body. Sweat began to form on my forehead, and I started feeling nauseous. The room zoomed in and out of focus as my teacher's voice became distant and echo-y. My body swayed back and forth, and I sincerely felt like I was going to pass out.

I grabbed my water bottle and guzzled the contents down. I thought for sure that would help, but it only made things worse. The feeling of hurling was intensifying, but I resisted the urge. I wiped the sweat from my forehead as the LED lights above strained my eyes. I became so sensitive to my surrounding that the slight muffles of the teacher made me wince in pain. In fact, everything around me was so unbearable it was almost as if everything was attacking my senses.

What I felt was a warm trickle traveling down my lips, and I lifted my hand to wipe it away. I was about to continue doodling when I caught the sight of scarlet. Blood.

I raised my hand up to my nose and inspected it. More blood. A few drops landed on my doodle. I tipped my head to slacken the flow, but it continued to travel down my lips, then to my chin. In no time at all, there was a line of dark red on my shirt. I tried to wipe it all away, but instead, I got it all over my hands.

"Berna..." A voice vibrated through the room.

I rose up in fright. The voice whispered something else that was inaudible.

"Miss Vayne, are you alright?" Mr. Rasmith inquired. He spotted the red that was all smeared all over. "Is that blood?"

"I don't feel very good," I mumbled my words weakly as I wiped the pouring sweat from my eyes.

"Bernadette," Mr. Rasmith slowly started to maneuver himself around the desks. "Let's take you to the nurse and get you cleaned up alright?"

Everyone was now focused on me. I looked at some of the faces of my classmates. Some were disgusted some were genuinely concerned. I returned my focus to Mr. Rasmith and was about to say something, but I heard the faint voice again.

"Bernadette..." The voice called out, this time in a magnificent volume.

I flinched at the sound of my name. I could feel the blood in my face being drained. My classmates started whispering to each when Mr. Rasmith reached me and pressed my forehead.

"Bobby, go get the nurse," Mr. Rasmith ordered one of the students. "Now!"

"Bernadette..." It called again, this time with more intensity. The voice seemed to be originating from above, but then it bounced to the window, then from under the desk, then out the door. My skull followed the noise to every location as if in some delirium.

"Where are you?" I shouted into the air. My eyes were wide with confusion and delirium. I was losing touch with reality. I was now soaked with sweat shuddering more violently. It was like I was losing control of my own body.

"Hey, you need to sit down, right now," Mr. Rasmith ordered.

He was about to push me into the chair gently, but I swatted his hands. I was beside myself. All I could focus on was the voice and where it was originating.

As if in a fit of madness I flung myself to the left then the right; and even slid over a desk or two. All my classmates watched me intently as I acted like a chicken running without its head. My poor AP teacher tried to chase me down as the students rose from their seats, backed up against the wall, and watched as their AP Psychology teacher chased after me. Finally, I stopped in front of the bookshelf and pressed my ear against it. I paused for a moment to hear it again. Nothing. I became frustrated and started ripping the books out of the bookshelves. Every textbook, guide, manual, and magazine fell to the floor with an ungraceful plop as I scrambled to tear them out. The sound of pages flipping covers ripping, and the shouts of an angry teacher filled the room along with the student's confused voices. But everything; their words, faces, they just blended into the white walls of the classroom.

"Bernadette..." I finally heard it echo down the hall.

I whirled around to race out the door, but instead, I blocked by Mr. Rasmith who immediately tried to restrain me. I tried to struggle out of his grasp, but he was a grown man with adult strength. So I bit him, and he yelped in pain as he released me. I rushed out of the classroom and ran down the corridor. The voice continued to fill my mind; saying my name over and over. I wanted it to stop. Oh, why didn't it stop? I fell to the floor and writhed about in a puddle of agony. My teeth clenched like a wild animal, and my eyelids were squeezed tightly together as if it would help keep the noise out. It was going on and on, repeating my name over and over. I forced myself to sit up, and with one deep breath I screamed as much as my lungs would allow me:

"STOP!"

Then it was silent. It was so calm that it was devoid of any sound. I lowered my arms from my ears and observed my surrounding. I wasn't in the hallway anymore, in fact, I wasn't even at school. It was a bright, white room that had an old willow in the center accompanied by a rushing stream that made no sound. It was the oddest, thing to watch as the water glistened and glimmered and almost directly in front of me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair was as black as ebony, her eyes shone like silver, and her skin was as pale as the quartz that decorated the rims of the room. She was magnificent; not only in beauty but also in height. After I lifted myself from the ground, I still was short a foot or two in comparison., The smell of old oak mixed with flowers and honey in spring permeated from her hair and clothes. The robes that draped her voluptuous, figure where light and dark green, decorated with a golden pattern that I had never seen before. Her presence was intense, yet kind and almost familiar. She reminded me of someone; someone I had met a long time ago, once upon a dream. The woman interrupted my amazement with a jeweled hand that lifted my own.

"I'm sorry to come to you in such a manner, but I needed to talk to you directly," the woman spoke with a smooth voice like a trickling stream. She held my hand firmly as if I was an old friend.

I stared for a moment, rubbed my eyes, and opened them again. "What is is this?" I pointed at the woman. "Who, are you? Am I dreaming?"

The lady let out a light chuckle. "No, this is no dream, but this isn't exactly reality either," She barely clarified.

The woman noticed my blank stare and her small smile quickly transformed into a forlorn look. "I'm sorry for being so mysterious, but I don't have time to explain everything," she continued. "All I can do for now is warn you,"

"Warn me? What do you mean?" I asked in puzzlement. " What's going on?"

Her hand squeezed mine tighter. " Bernadette, everything is going to change. You have to be prepared for what lies ahead."

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows. Am I in danger or something?"

"Yes." A sigh escaped the woman's full red lips. "Unfortunately, I can't give you all the details now, but I can if we meet face to face."

"Oh, like face to face, in reality, you mean?" I pointed out.

The corners of the woman's lips lifted up to reveal a warm smile that even made me grin.

"Naturally," she winked. "But right now you need to go find me. I will be waiting out in the desert over yonder where you used to play as a child."

"The desert behind my neighborhood?" I asked in confusion. "Why there?"

"The power of your childhood memories will buy us some time, and hopefully I will be able to tell you everything you need to know."

"But that stretches out for miles how will I know where to find you?"

"Just follow the wind," The tall woman advised. " She will show you the way,"

"The wind?" I quizzed her. But I wasn't able to ask any more questions for the ground started to quake from under us. An uneasy feeling of darkness and anxiety filled the once beautiful room as we both fell to the ground.

"We are running out of time; you must go at once!" The woman commanded with urgency.

"What's going on?" I screamed over the loud thundering noises of the shaking floor.

"He's found me," She explained. "You must get to my body before he does or all is lost."

I tried to lift myself but was knocked over by the trembling floor. I raised my head and saw the woman fighting against the tremors and continued to hold my hand.

"How do we get out of here?" I implored.

"Open your eyes, Bernadette, you will return to your school!" she shouted back.

The woman fell over once again, and I watched as the grand willow became uprooted and fell to the floor. The once bright streams were filled with black grains of sand, and the room was growing darker and darker.

"Bernadette!"

My eyelids whipped open. My chest was rising and falling like crazy, and I pushed up from the ground. My heart began to slow down when I found that I had returned to my school. From behind, I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to see Mr. Rasmith.

"Are you ok?" he asked dripping with concern. "You were bleeding, and then you started destroying the books and-"

"I have to go," I interrupted looking at the exit. My head felt groggy and heavy.

"What?" My psychology teacher questioned.

I whirled around to face my puzzled teacher. "I have to go, Rasmith, like, now," I informed him.

He was still concerned and perplexed, but I began to pass him. He turned and gently grabbed my arm.

"Bernadette Vayne, I demand an explanation for this!" he demanded me.

I paused. If I told him the truth of what happened, he would have thought I was crazy. He may even present me as on of his examples for the unstable and insane. Maybe, I was mad, after all this time, perhaps I had finally lost it just like my sister.

"I'm sorry Rasmith, but I can't" I brushed his grip away from my arm as I backed away.

The teacher's face shifted from angry confusion to protective concern.

"Bernadette, is there something you need to tell me?" He asked with a touch of sternness.

My eyes widened. I wanted to tell him everything. The mysterious dreams, the lady, the weird prophecies of impending doom, but I just lowered my eyes to the floor.

"Sorry, Mr. Rasmith, I can't, " I answered quietly.

I bolted away from him and into the classroom. I could hear his shouts as I grabbed all my belonging and darted out the door. Mr. Rasmith was there, expecting me and tried to stop me from leaving. I dodged his flailing limbs and attempts of grabbing me and pushed my legs to run. I was at a full on sprint at this point, so when I burst through the main entrance, the security guards at the administration had barely any time to react. Finally, I was out of the building.

The whole world was in an uproar! Trash was zooming past the cars, the trees were dancing like crazy, and I could scarcely hear myself think above the noises the wind made. I had to get to my truck and fast! I pushed against the howling wind and into my truck. I was about to pull out when I noticed it. I froze in mid-action. In my direction, there was a large wall of black sand pushing against the wind. My jaw dropped. How did nobody see this?

I stared for a moment when I finally snapped back into reality.

"Ok, follow the wind she says," I mumbled to myself as I backed out of the driveway. I watched the direction the wind was going by looking at the trees and the tumbleweeds, and to my horror, they were going straight for the black wall of sand.

"Oh, heck no," I whispered in disbelief. "There is no way I'm going into that blazing storm of doom,"

Boom!

A crack of lightning made its way into the swirling cage of the dark, sandstorm. The words and warning of the tall, beautiful woman bounced around my mind, and I knew there was only one thing to do.

I turned the ignition, got on the road, and drove straight into the desert towards my childhood play area. My truck fought through the storm, and I could hear every grain of sand hitting the truck. I finally reached the desert, and I looked through my windshield to see any signs of life. As I drove further and further into the desert, I was getting dangerously close to the scary wall of black sand. I checked outside again for the wind. The direction never changed, insisting that I keep going straight. I was about to stomp on the brakes when a voice filled my head.

"You must keep going," it said.

At first, I thought it was the lady's voice, but it sounded male and happier than the lady's voice. Either way, I continued to drive. I was nearly to the wall, and I stopped. I was afraid to go in as if I knew what sort of danger did lie ahead. But, the thought of the woman kept me going and I gathered my courage. I stomped on the gas to go full speed, and I zoomed into the wall. Upon impact, the sand exploded into my truck. It poured out of the AC, the floor, every crack and crevice it could find.

Spoof! My truck flew out of the wall into a small opened area.

I hopped out of the truck and searched. The landscape was surrounded by the wall of dark sand and in the center was the tall woman waiting for me. Her face lit up as she saw me and started running toward me. I too ran to meet her halfway, and finally, I reached her. What I didn't expect was her pulling me into a hug. Usually, I would feel awkward about touching strangers, but the woman felt so familiar that I found myself hugging her back.

"I'm so glad you came," she mused as she held mine tightly.

"Sorry, I'm so late," I found myself saying to her.

She pulled me away from her and placed both hands on my cheeks.

"No, I should be the one apologizing," she interrupted. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't be caught in the middle of this mess,"

"What do you mean?" I asked as my blue eyes caught her silver eyes. She lowered hers, and I could see specks of silver tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's my fault," she whispered. "It's all my fault-"

She pulled me back into a tighter hug. Her silk dress brushed against my cheeks and forehead, and I could smell rain and grass from her hair.

"My time is running out," she whispered in my ear as if being secretive. I felt her tears land on my face. She slipped a round object into my hand, and she pushed me from her embrace. "This is my old locket" she informed me as she held my hand tightly with both of hers. "In it is my picture and my daughter. Whatever you do, do not give it to the Nightmare King,"

"Who's the Nightmare King?" I asked her. Tears were rolling down my face as well. I didn't know what was going on, but I felt as if she was saying goodbye.

"He will make himself known to you soon," she continued to explain. "Whatever you do, stay away from him. He will try to take you, kidnap you, charm you, anything to have you by his side."

"Me?" I questioned. "What's so great about me?"

She held my face in her once more and looked at me lovingly in the eyes. "You are part of their future,"

I looked at her face in confusion. Despite her stained face, she was magnificent and beautiful.

"I don't understand, who are you?" I asked over the rising sound of the sandstorm.

"My name is Emily-"

There was a loud whoosh, and I cried out in pain. I lowered my eyes to see the tip of a black spear in my shoulder. The majority of the spear had pierced the lady's upper abdomen. Her eyes screamed in agony, but she only slipped out a small moan. Her eye met the spear's gleaning blade, and she became weak. Her body became limp and toppled over me. The weight of the lady pushed the spear further into my shoulder, and I screamed in pain once more. I struggled to push the woman from on top of me, but instead of her moving, a small groan emitted from the body.

"I'm sorry…" she gasped. I felt her chest struggling to rise and fall, and a warm substance began to gather over my chest. "Now, because of me, Pitch and the Man in the Moon can reach you,"

The woman turned herself over to her side, and I was free. I knelt to her side, but she was struggling to stay alive.

"S-stay away from the m-moon and stay away from P-pitch," The woman forced the words out. "They both w-want you as a pawn in their terr-terrible game,"

"What game?" I asked in near delirium.

"The f-fate of humanity…" She trailed off and with her last breathe she held my hand. Then her head limped to the side. Her eyes empty and lifeless.

"Emily?" I cried. "Emily!" I shook her body, but I knew. I knew she was gone. I knew that all that was left was a lifeless shell. I began to sob uncontrollably. I had only known her for a few moments, but I felt I had known her all my life. She had risked her life to warn me of the dangers that lied ahead. And gosh darn it, I was not going to let her die in vain.

The winds started to subside, and the black sand had disappeared. I was still holding the woman's hand, unable to break away from the shell of the woman. I was crying softly to myself. What was I going to do with the body? I couldn't carry her. She was way too large, and I wasn't that strong.

In the midst of my scrambled thoughts, I noticed her body began to glow. It glowed so brightly that I used my hand to protect my eyes from the shine. When the light dimmed, her body transformed into millions of small lights and began to travel upwards and into the blue sky. I watched as the lights all disappeared from my sight. It was such a sight to behold, but I did not observe with awe. I watched in melancholy and was finally alone in the middle of the desert.

The storm had stopped, the woman was gone; there was nothing left for me here. I stood up from the dirt ground and winced in pain. With all that was going on, I had forgotten entirely about my wounded shoulder. Strained my head over to inspect the severity of the wound. It was pretty deep, but not fatal, I assumed. Tearing my shirt into two pieces, I used one half as a sling for my shoulder and the other to wipe my hands. I was covered in blood. My face, my sides, my tank top that was underneath my shirt, all soaked. I spat a glob of saliva and blood. The thought of how much blood was mine or the woman, Emily's, made me feel queasy and I hobbled over to my white, ford truck. I slowly open the door and eased my injured self on to the upholstery. I let out a breath of relief. I was exhausted, spent, and in unbearable pain. My eyelids flickered as the exhaustion was taking over me. I leaned my head against the truck's supporting seat, and I rested my eyes for a moment. The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was the black sand on the seat next to mine and how it started to become… alive.


	3. Chapter 3: The Nightmare King

"Where am I?" I mumbled out loud to myself.

I've been asking myself that same question a lot today. This day has been quite exciting, and I knew it was only going to get worse.

I looked around and found I was in a world covered in a bright, glistening meadow surrounded by miles of green blades. I lifted my head to the sky above, but my eyes were stabbed by the flash of its blinding light. The atmosphere, though, had a bipolar aura that commanded the sun and I witnessed a sunrise and a sunset every three seconds. Despite its significant production of obnoxious, alternating colors, everything was silent and still.

"Is this another dream?" I theorized.

I stroked some of the tall blades of the green meadow, and it tickled my hand lightly. In my other hand, I noticed that it was clasped around something tightly. I raised my hand and opened to reveal a large silver locket with intricate designs on it.

"Is this what Emily gave me before she died?" I thought to myself.

A loud, pipe organ song interrupted any future thoughts, and I looked up and saw an old, abandoned carnival. I blinked in surprise; It wasn't there before. I traveled across the field and to the entrance of the run-down carnival. It was eerie, dirty and the out of tune pipe organ song didn't help either. I looked over and saw a paint-chipped sign that read "enter here."

I was hesitant to enter the creepy amusement park, for not only did I know it was probably a nightmare, but I remembered Emily mentioning a Nightmare King. If this was a nightmare, then this could be a trap. I turned to walk away and forget this nightmare circus, but something stopped me. From the corner of my eye, I saw the light bulbs along the sides of the red carpet flash on one by one to display a path to a destination from within the carnival. I bit my lip in thought. My curiosity, now filled to the brim, made me follow the red carpet.

The carnival was filled with bright lights and colorful, iridescent scenery. When I journeyed further into the carnival, I spotted a decent amount of dead games and old, rotting dolls that leaned over their display case, as if wanting to jump to its demise. Within the darker parts of the circus, I noticed figures lurking behind the booths of the dead games. I squinted to get a better look at them from the stirring shadows. When suddenly one of them flashed its eerie yellow eyes at me, and I jumped back in fright. This was, indeed, turning into a nightmare.

I stared intensely at the shadows and the figures morphed into brightly dressed men with white grease paint on their faces. The blood, red liquid oozing down from their eyes and their yellowed, chipped fangs resembled more to knives than to teeth. The sight of them made me shudder, and I backed away from the evil looking clowns. I continued down the red path lit before me; further and further I went. Finally, I arrived at a giant contraption. It was an old, broken Merry-Go-Round. In front of the dead Merry-Go-Round was another dark figure that obstructed the entryway to the ride. My mind went back to the grotesque clowns and, against my better judgment, I approached it. I didn't want another scary creature jumping me, but something told me that this creature was different.

"Hello?" I cautiously greeted. I knew I was unbearably naive calling out to the stranger like that. It was like the same concept as the victim calling out "who's there" when we all knew it was the murderer waiting to strike. I knew I was being dumb, but I couldn't help myself.

The figure didn't stir, which didn't surprise me. I inched closer, and with my small hands, I followed the velvet ropes of the stanchion that now stood beside the red carpet. What was odd about the rug itself was at the very end of it, was the mysterious stranger. It was as if the red road was leading me towards this strange man. What I noticed about him at first glance was that the stranger's body was perfectly parallel to the ticket booth, displaying a perfectly straight back. He was tall with wild, wiry black hair that was slicked back as best as it could manage. The stiff hair had a similar personality as his thin, slender neck that contrasted against his onyx attire. Everything about him reminded me so much of hard stone that when he moved, it startled me considerably. His thin yet defined torso rotated in a circular motion as to face me. He only reached about three quarters when his blazing gold and silver eyes latched onto my pale blue. The slicing movement added to the intensity of his gaze to the point where I had to remove mine. Those mesmerizing eyes made me uneasy as if he could see right down into my very soul. I wasn't planning on returning his gaze, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself traveling back to those piercing eyes. Once he noticed that my attention was entirely fixed on him, the edges of his mouth lifted to reveal two rows of grayed-sharp teeth that also resembled shards of stone. The unwelcomed smile made me shiver which in turn, pleased the man.

"Well, well, well" The figure spoke smoothly. "After all this time,"

I stood there puzzled. "What?"

He gave a mocking gasp. "Why I was sure you of all people would remember me," He took a step forward. "I'm the man of your dreams,"

I stared at him blankly, and the man seemed disappointed.

"Ah, well," He sighed. "I guess you can't be memorable to everyone,"

"Wait," I interrupted. "You're him aren't you?"

The man rotated his entire body in my direction, his attention again, directed at me.

"Him? " he questioned. His smoky voice startled me. It was silky smooth with an airy hint to it as if trying to conceal a darker motive. "Whoever could you possibly mean?"

The palms of my hands began to sweat as the man's intense presence began to imitate me further. I swallowed back any signs of uneasiness and hesitation.

"You're the Nightmare King," I forced out.

"My, my," He grinned. "She was able to spill out a little more than I thought,"

My chest became tight, and breathing became more difficult as I put two and two together.

"It was you," I accused him. Tears began to spill out of my eyes. "You killed her,"

My hands were cold and sweaty, and I felt sick all over again.

"If you're referring to that fool of a woman who sabotaged my first attempt at using my new powers? Then I suppose, but it doesn't matter." He flicked a speck off his robe with little concern. "I'm back, better than ever and she was only an annoying little fly that needed to be squashed," he finished with a grin as he squashed a nearby beetle.

"You're sick," I spat in disbelief. My heart was going crazy. What was I doing talking to the man who murdered Emily with ease?

"I don't know what you want, but I'm leaving," I started with a lot more courage than I felt.

"Oh you're not going anywhere," He commented in a low voice.

I was already striding away from him when he appeared in front of me out of nowhere. He reached out to grab me, but he missed, and I hastily entered the ticket booth. I slammed the ticket booth door, locked the booth door, and shoved a chair under the handle. The area inside was small, and all it contained was the two chairs and a picture of a dead flower hanging on a loose nail. I assumed I was safe for a fraction of a second when the door ripped off its hinges without warning. The Nightmare King then stepped into the cramped space, and my eyes grew large, and horror flashed across my face as I backed into a wall.

" What do you want from me?!" I screamed with false courage. Tears were raining down my eyes. "Are you going to kill me, too?"

I grabbed the chair next to me and used it as a protective shield. The Nightmare King gave me a disapproving look at my pathetic attempts, and he grabbed the chair and jerked it out of my hands.

"Tempting," He hissed. "But there are other things that I need you for,"

I was at the end of the line, and he knew it. He cornered me with his suffocating arms, and I could feel his breath. It was surprisingly warm coming from a man with such a cold personality. I was shaking uncontrollably, I felt like such a kid, not standing up for myself. I should have been brave; I should have hollered, kicked, or even scratched his eyes, but no. I just stood there, completely immobilized. I closed my eyes gathering up all my energy to prepare for the worst. But instead, I felt him lean in closer. He inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sort of satisfaction.

"Can you see me, now?" he whispered in my ear.

"What kind of question is that?" I asked him, judging his dumb and obvious question. " I'm here; you're there, I'm trapped, you're like seven foot-"

" Enough!" his silky voice scratching up into anger. I jumped as I pulled back to the reality of the situation. His closeness made me notice he was taller than I had initially thought.

His arms drew in closer as to grab my arms and once again, warmth. He released an arm to remove a strand of brown hair that was obscuring my face. Even though, I knew the act was harmless I flinched. The action was too slow and too intimate for my taste. He drew in another breath through his strong nose…

Was this guy… smelling me?

"What are you doing?" I questioned with disgust.

Your fear is just so…" he stopped in mid-sentence. He lifted my fallen spaghetti strap.

He threw his arms down and backed away from me as fast as he could. I was taken aback by his sudden change of stance, but I was thankful he wasn't so close now. I, still pressed against the wall, was unable to move.

"I have a business proposition," he coughed as he collected himself.

His unwilling eyes gave me some strength as to stop shaking, but not enough to stop the sweating of my palms. His neck looked strained as he made his lips tight. Now he was even more frustrated than before.

"I've been watching you closely," he added in a rich voice. His eyes lifted to meet mine and I could feel something evil lurking behind those eyes.

"Very closely," He emphasized.

"Get to the point," I demanded with anger. I was done with him toying with me. His little game of dominance was losing its touch.

His brow furrowed in annoyance, but he didn't say anything back except to continue.

"As I said, I've been watching you very closely," he restated. "And, apparently, some people think you are 'special,'" He ended with mockery. " But I think we both know that you are the quite the opposite,"

He looked at me for some reaction, but to his dissatisfaction, I showed no signs of any.

"But, alas, if my rival needs you then I desperately need you more," He sighed. "So, how about it?"

"You need me?" I asked in disbelief. It was exactly what the woman warned me about before she died. "What could I possibly have to offer?"

He shrugged his low, square shoulders."Puzzling, isn't it?"

I folded my arms and boldly leaned against the wall in a casual like manner. " You're kidding right?"

"Never," he objected.

"Ok, I dunno what planet you're from, but on Earth, we have a "no joining bad guys into their crazy gang" policy. And, seriously, do you actually think that I would ever join you, after what you did to that woman?" I practically screamed at him.

He threw his arms up in anger. "Again with the woman! Geez! How did she get you so wrapped around her little finger?" He hollered in irritation. He inspected me harder. "What did she do? Did she promise you something?"

I was silent.

"Did she tell you who she was? Did she give you something?" He questioned.

My eyes flickered. The locket was still in my hand, and I slipped it into my pocket. Unfortunately, the man noticed.

"Oh," he mused. "She did give you something. What is it?" He inched closer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I stated.

He chuckled. "Oh, you were always a terrible liar," He reached out with his hand open. "Now, give it to me, and you can go back home,"

"No,"

"I said, give it to me," He ordered.

"And I said, no," I replied.

"You stupid girl!" He raged.

The next thing I knew he was over me banging the wall in anger screaming for me to give him the locket. I shouted back "no." His hands shot out and clamped onto my throat, and I couldn't breathe. I started scratching his hands with my nails, but it didn't seem to do any good. Tears streamed down my eyes. I couldn't help myself; I knew he was going to kill me. His hands gripped tighter around my throat. He was so angry that he clenched his jaw and the muscles in his neck bulged out. His face was an ugly scowl that was beginning to look fuzzier every second. Then it hit me, a surge of powerful energy filled my body, and I peeled the Nightmare King's boney hands away from my throat and kicked him in the gut. He flew out the door and skidded through the dirt. He rose up, surprised at my new powers. He arose from the ground and summoned a giant, black scythe. As he ran towards me, I closed my eyes.

And I woke up.


	4. Chapter 4: Unfortunate Slight

The first thing I felt when I regained consciousness was the pain in my shoulder. I had almost forgotten that my shoulder was stabbed by some sort of sand spear that the Nightmare King had created. Well, a spear that I think he created. I was pretty sure it was him that created the storm and the javelin. He practically admitted it in my dream, so the theory wasn't too far fetched.

I looked around for the keys so I could start the ignition. I checked the clock in my truck, 3:56 pm, it read. I frowned; my school was already out, and my parents were probably expecting me to be home by now. I pulled out my phone; surprisingly it wasn't blown up with millions of messages. I thought it was odd for my parents not to text me about my delay, but I was relieved. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture or any human contact whatsoever. I wanted to be alone. Everything was happening so fast that I couldn't process it all. The Nightmare King, Emily...it was all too much.

I immediately headed home. It was way harder to drive with an incapacitated arm especially when every movement caused a flush of pain. When I finally reached home, I slipped out of the truck and limped to the door. Pulled out my house key, unlocked it, and opened the door. It was oddly quiet. With three brothers there's never a dull moment, but this time it wasn't full of life. I dragged myself inside.

"Joel? Marvin?" I called out. No answer.

I saw a pink note on the kitchen counter. It read:

Dear Bernadette,

Your dad and I had to take the boys to sports practice. Henry, dad and I won't be back until 10 pm, and Joel and Marvin won't be back until midnight. Watch Charlotte and remind her to take her pills, she's having a rough day. Make sure you do your homework!

Love, Mom

P.S. - There are some cans of soup in the pantry if you get hungry. Make Charlotte a can of Cream of Chicken soup; it's her favorite. :)

"Bernie?" Said a weak voice.

I looked over and saw my sister lying on the couch. Her stick-straight hair was a mess, and her face, withdrawn from lack of exercise. Ever since she was prescribed those stupid pills, Charlotte was sleeping twelve to fifteen hours a day.

"Hey, Char," I mused. I limped over and kneeled beside her. "What's up?"

"I had a crazy dream," Charlotte rubbed her eyes. "It was so weird. You were in it."

"I was?" I asked surprised.

Charlotte stretched and saw the blood, the shoulder, and the dirt and screamed. She backed away from me with tears in her eyes. She started hitting her head with both of her fists.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!" She repeated as she smacked herself on the head over and over.

"Charlotte stop!" I scolded. I tried to restrain her, but she continued to flail about and tried to hit herself.

"But I see blood!" She screamed. She was hysterical, and I grabbed her hands.

"Charlotte, this is real!" I insisted. She stops for a moment, but she was shaking. "I'm really bleeding; this isn't a hallucination,"

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?" She screeched. "Oh, let's all lie about everything to the crazy girl, she won't know the difference!"

"Char!" I yelled out once more. I gave a small whack on the forehead, and she fell silent.

"I fell out of a tree and landed on a branch." I lied. "You are not crazy; I am actually sore."

She studied my face for a moment and released a sigh of relief. I released her hands and plopped myself next to her on the couch.

"You better get off of Mom's couch. If she finds out, you got blood all over her couch,

you're dead," She turned to me and stated.

"And people say you're crazy," I teased. She elbowed me in the gut, and I immediately keeled over. Charlotte then remembered my shoulder and apologized repeatedly. I looked up to her and gave a small, painful laugh.

Both of our smiles faded into a far off look. We listened to the silence of the house and the creaking of the tree that was in our front yard.

"It should have been me," I murmured.

"Bernie, don't start," She cut me off.

"But it's true," I insisted. "We both know I could have dealt with this way better than you,"

"Oh, well. It is what it is." She stated with conviction. "There's nothing we can do about it."

We were quiet for a moment. My eyes shifted to her face. Her soft, thin brown hair was piled on her head and her mocha skin brought out her vibrant green eyes.

"How did you ever become my sister?" I asked.

"What?"

"I mean you look Mexican and I'm this pasty, blue-eyed Anglo lookin' gal, I mean what gives?" I queried.

"Looks like mom's got a lot of explaining to do," She quipped raising her eyebrows.

We both laughed. Hanging with my sister alone for once was nice.

"Speaking of mom," I began to remind her. She cringed and moaned.

"Don't make me take those things, Bernie," She begged. "They always make me tired, and I feel like I have not energy!"

"I know, Char, but mom says you have to," I tried to convince her.

"I hate taking pills," She complained.

"They're supposed to help you get better," I reassured her.

"Well, I don't feel like I'm getting better!" She pouted and got up from the couch and walked away. I hobbled after her.

"Look, just take this one, and I promise I'll try to wake you up in thirty minutes," I bargained.

"Promise?" She asked.

"Cross my heart, hope to die," I promised with my unwounded arm's hand on my heart.

"If you break it, I'll stick a needle in your eye," Charlotte threatened.

I cringed at the thought and went to get her pills. I filled a cup of water and offered them to Charlotte. She took it and hesitated. I smiled in encouragement, and she smiled back. She popped them in her mouth and guzzled down the water. She walked back to the couch and lied down it. I frowned. It was like she was doomed to sleep forever. Those pills were supposed to help her Psychosis, but instead, they knocked her out. She didn't have any more episodes, but she wasn't living either.

Struggled up the stairs and made it to my room. I shut the door locked it, and went to work. I had to get rid of any evidence of my confrontation. I undressed and hid my soiled clothes in the back of my closet. I hopped in the shower and gave myself a good scrub. I felt like I had sand everywhere and it was extremely uncomfortable. Then I got out of the shower and began to fix my shoulder; I inspected the shoulder with the vanity in my room. It wasn't deep, and it looked like it stopped bleeding. I hoped I didn't need stitches; there was no way I was going to perform that on myself.

After I was dressed and done with everything, I sat down and gave myself a moment of peace. My mind trailed off to Emily, to the Nightmare King, then to...

"The Locket!" I exclaimed.

I crawled out of bed and went straight to the closet. I picked up my bloodied jeans and pulled the locket out of the back pocket. I opened my hand to reveal an oval-shaped pendant. It had an intricate design in the front that was almost floral, but also angular at the same time. I gingerly opened the little, silver guardian and in its keeping was two pictures. One was a young girl who had long, wild black hair, bright golden eyes that shone with innocence, and a blouse that was a dark midnight blue with golden designs at the edge. She was almost doll-like as her porcelain complexion illuminated out of the picture. Her eyes golden eyes reminded of Emily.

"I bet this was her when she was younger," I told myself.

I looked at the photo that was next to Emily's picture. It portrayed a younger girl who was only about four or five who had long blonde hair for her age and light creamy skin. Her blue eyes shone out happiness and wonder that even brought me a little hope. Her toothy grin also made me crack a small smile. Her dress was long and white with silver etchings swirling with such a confident personality. I chuckled at her square, broad forehead and her cute petite nose. She warmed my heart.

"I wonder who this little girl is," I wondered to myself.

I crawled back into bed and stared at the locket's picture. I looked and looked until my eyes began to feel heavy, and for the first time in a while, I fell asleep that night without having a single nightmare.


	5. Chapter 5: The Deal

"You're grounded," My mom exclaimed. It was the first thing she said when I walked into the house.

"But mom-" I started.

"No buts!" She ordered. "I can't believe you would destroy every book in Mr. Rasmith's room! Do you know how expensive his books are? Some of them were college books! Don't you know how those cost? A lot, that's for sure!"

"Mom I can explain-"

"I don't want to hear it!" She cut me off. "From now on, no more phones until graduation and you get to pay back Mr. Rasmith every cent with your savings. You have a week to give him the money. Am I clear?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

"Yes," I repeated with more volume.

"Now go to your room," She commanded with a stern finger.

I climbed the stairs and into my room. I plopped onto my bed, upset about everything. If only my mother would give me a chance to explain myself then maybe she would understand. Then again, perhaps it was better this way. If I did tell her what happened, she'd probably put me on pills like my sister.

I sighed.

Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I saw things that weren't there, and I imagined this Nightmare guy.

I nodded in confirmation. I was pretty sure Emily was real, I had a locket that she gave me which seems pretty legit, but the only times I've seen this Nightmare King was in my dreams.

"But," I argued to myself. "Emily did mention the Nightmare King and also a man in a Moon,"

I was getting light-headed. Differentiating between what's real and what's not could be very exhausting.

I heard a knock on the door.

"Hey, Bernie, it's me Charlotte,"

"Come in," I answered.

She walked in with a tray of food and a glass of juice. She walked over to my desk slowly as to not spill; she placed the dinner tray beside by homework.

"Mom said you had to eat in your room," Charlotte explained.

"Oh, well, thanks Char," I thanked.

She stared me down with fierce intensity, and I could feel her stare burning into the back of my head.

"What?" I asked.

"You lied to me!" She accused.

"What are you talking about?" I questioned, oblivious.

"You said you'd wake me up in thirty minutes, Bernadette. Thirty minutes!"

I groaned and facepalmed myself. I had forgotten entirely to wake Charlotte up.

"I am so sorry, Char." I sincerely apologized. "I fell asleep for once in my life, and I didn't wake up until morning,"

Charlotte crossed her arms. She was still furious. Today just seemed like a day for everyone to be mad at me for something.

"Enjoy your dinner," She grumbled. And with that, she turned and stomped out of my room.

I felt sorry for not waking Charlotte up, but even if I tried she'd fight me like always.

I sighed and looked at the dinner tray.

"Well, better eat it while it's hot," I suggested to myself.

I sat down and ate the roasted chicken and green beans and washed it down with the juice. After I finished my dinner, I was about to work on my homework when I felt drowsy and weak. I tried to raise myself from off the chair, but instead, I fell over and landed on the ground with a dull thud. The room was spinning around me, and the floor followed. It was as if I was on the teacup ride at Disneyland until finally, I passed out in the middle of my room. When I came too, I was somewhere different. It looked like my room, but yet it wasn't. It seemed distorted and darker. My paintings were gone, and my bed was on my ceiling, the wardrobe was in front of the door, and the chair was in the middle of the room. And sitting in the chair was him. The Nightmare King himself.

"Did you have a nice meal?" The Nightmare King asked. He was hunched over slightly as he watched me try to lift myself from the ground.

"Oh great," I moaned annoyed. I thought I finally escaped this weirdo.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" He mocked.

"No," I answered bluntly.

"Oh," He pursed his lip in disappointment. "That's too bad, 'cause I'm happy to see you,"

"Why?" I questioned him suspiciously.

"Because I've realized how special you are and I want to apologize for how I treated you my last visit," He explained.

I looked at him blankly.

He got up from the chair and smiled. "Let's start over," He insisted. "My name is Pitch, and I am, as you have stated the Nightmare King."

He extended a bony hand toward me. I looked at it in distrust and then back at him.

"Why so reluctant? I'm just trying to make amends." He assured me.

"This isn't real," I finally said.

"What?" He lowered his hand slowly. He didn't seem to like what I said.

"I said, this isn't real. None of it is. That bed, that chair, even you," I pointed to him. "It's all just figments of my imagination. Or in other words, I'm probably going crazy."

The man named Pitch stood, disturbed at my sudden epiphany. I thought he was going to throw another tantrum of some sort, but instead, he waited for a moment and then smiled.

"Here's what I think," He started. "I think, that you do believe that I'm real because if you didn't, I wouldn't be standing here before you,"

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because, Bernadette, despite my infinite power, there are just some rules that even I can't break," Pitch explained.

"Hold on," I interrupted him. It was the first time I heard him say my name."How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you." He scoffed and smiled as if he was going to perform a magic trick." Your name is Bernadette Jae Vayne, you're seventeen years old, you were born on October 8th, and you have three brothers and a sister, diagnosed with some sort of mental problem that I could care less. I can go on and on, but we're getting off topic."

I was a bit surprised at how much he knew, and he could sense my amazement.

"I told you I was watching you didn't I?"

"Yeah, but not stalker status," I began, disturbed.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm a stalker," His statement was dripping with sarcasm. "At least I did my, what do you mortals call it? 'Homework?'"

"Great! You did your freakin' homework. Whoo Hoo. Are we done here?" I demanded with impatience. "Cause I'm pretty sure that this is some lame prank that Charlotte's pulling. I bet she chopped up some of her pills in my juice. That jerk."

"Um, am I missing something?" Pitch interrupted my rant.

"No, but apparently I am," I expressed to him in irritation. "I've been having stupid nightmares for days, probably stress induced, I 'm hallucinating about a supermodel and some babadook wannabe, and now my sister is drugging me with her pills. How did my life come to this?"

I threw my arms up in frustration and Pitch just watched dumbfounded.

"You really don't think this is real, do you?" He asked intrigued.

"How could I?" I shrieked. "Ugh, how did I convinced myself that some psycho killer was stalking me?"

"But that's impossible," Pitch mumbled to himself.

"That's what I'm saying." I pointed out in frustration. "All this is impossible and therefore, not real,"

"No not that!" He lectured. " What's impossible is that you can see me despite your lack of belief."

"Isn't that what I'm trying to say?" I reminded him.

Pitch turned his back to me and ignored me. "I bet she did something to make her see me or maybe he did." He thought out loud.

"What?" I called out. "You know what? Nevermind. I'm getting tired of all this Nightmare King nonsense."

I stomped over to the wardrobe that was barricading the door.

"What are you doing?" Pitch interrogated.

"I'm leaving," I puffed as I pushed the wardrobe.

The wardrobe fell over, and I was about to grab the handle to the door when suddenly Pitch appeared beside me. I only looked at him for a second when his hand shot out from his side, and his fingers latched onto my face. Terrified from the sudden form of attack I started to claw at his gripping hand, but it seemed not to affect it. It was as if his skin was ebbed with iron or steel that protected him from my sharp nails. He drew my face closer to him, and I could make out the texture of his skin, it was almost ashy, but yet pale as if his skin were made of shining particles. I didn't want to be this close to him; this was too close. My heart started to pace faster than it did before and I knew he could hear it.

" You stupid girl!" His face curled into one of his unsettling smiles and gave the darkest of chuckles. "Did you think I would let you leave?"

I continued attacking his wrists, but he squeezed my skull harder. I could have sworn he was breaking my jaw since the pain was too unbearable.

"Is this real enough for you? " He taunted angrily. "How could you doubt for even a sliver of a moment that I wasn't real?"

He released my face, and I fell back and onto my knees. I raised my sore head, and he struck me in the face. I fell over onto the floor.

"Did that feel real? Or did you imagine that?" He shouted at me. It was almost like he was releasing centuries of pent-up anger. He kicked me in the gut over and over until I spat out blood.

After he was finished, Pitch just stood there, panting as he watched me lying on the ground gasping for air. I choked on blood once or twice, but when I finally caught my breath, I forced myself upright.

"I was wrong, ok," I coughed up along with some more blood. "I was wrong, just please, stop,"

Pitch calmed down from his attack, and he almost looked ashamed of his action, almost. He squatted in front of me and lifted my bloodied head.

"I'm not quite done with you yet," He whispered. "We still have some orders of business to attend to,"

"Like what?" I asked with a weak voice as I pushed his hand away from my face.

"I need you, Bernadette," He replied with seeming sincerity. "More than you know,"

I didn't know what came over me at that moment, but his words filled me with anger, and I spat in his face. I froze when I realized what I had just done. Pitch twitched in irritation as he wiped the bloody spittle from his eye. Furiously he grabbed my shirt and dragged me up to his face.

"You'll pay for that, but I can't have a dead girl join my rank," His thin, tight lips curled into a cruel smile. "Maybe I could invite one of your brothers?" His eyes traveled from my lips to my eyes.

"Maybe your sister, perhaps?" he sneered through his gray teeth.

My eyes grew wide. I envisioned my sister being held captive by this monster, alone and afraid; like when my parents had no choice but to put my sister in the Mental Institution. No. I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Leave her alone," I ordered feebly.

"Oh my, looks like I hit a nerve," He chuckled to himself. He leaned in closer, my heart raced. "Try to stop me," He coaxed.

"How about we make a deal," I quickly requested. Pitch seemed moderately interested.

"A deal, you say?" he mused. "Now we're getting somewhere. So tell me," he smirked. "What do you propose?"

"I will do whatever you want, whenever you want" I started. "But you have to get me to say one simple phrase,"

"And what is that, may I ask?" He inquired of me.

I thought for a moment, but my pulsing head made it harder to concentrate let alone conjure up a bargain. I then remembered his little episode a few moments ago, and how he was angry, I didn't believe in him, and I knew what the phrase should be.

I have to say the words, "I believe in you,'"

There was thick silence as he pondered for a moment, stroking his long chin while he did so. Finally, he shrugged. "Sounds good,"

"But you have to leave my family alone," I informed him. "You can't use them as leverage to get me to say anything."

"Alright, alright," he hissed. "I won't meddle with your dumb family," He looked over at the wall. "Anything else?"

"First, let go of my shirt," I demanded. Pitch released it, and I stumbled back. "And, you can't kill anyone either while the deal is set," I added. "You kill, the deal's off,"

"Me? Why, Bernadette, are you trying to make me out as some murderer?" he feigned offense.

I gave him a dirty look as he chuckled to himself. His eyes wandered over to the chair.

"So let me get this straight," he quizzed. "If I can somehow persuade you to say the specific words 'I believe in you.' Then I win?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And if I don't?" He quizzed.

"Then you have to leave my family and me alone, forever," I explained further.

He thought about it for a moment. His face changing into different emotions. I hoped he would agree so that I could buy myself some time.

"It's almost poetic if you think about it, " He cooed. "Alright, it's a deal,"

I released a small sigh of relief. At least this would buy me some time until I can figure out what was going on. The thought of losing to this evil man crept into my mind. There was so much at stake here. My freedom, my family, and apparently the world if what Emily told me was real.

"Great, it's a deal," I hesitantly agreed. "But my you have to remember my other conditions,"

"Of course!" He grinned mischievously. "I wouldn't want to upset you, future partner," He ended with a dark chuckle.

"In your dreams, old man." I retorted.

"My dear, that is where I'm at my best!" he bantered.

He stretched forth his hand and saw there was a reluctant look in my eyes.

"What? Don't you trust me?" he mocked.

I still refused his unwelcoming hand.

" No handshake, no deal," he continued to tease, shrugging his low, slender shoulders.

I frowned as I hesitantly wrapped my hand around his extended, gray, bony hand. Sadly, that was another mistake I made that night. Once his fingers curled over mine, a flurry of black dust molded itself onto our adjoining hands. I tried releasing my hand from his, but his grip was as firm as iron. I pushed and pulled with no luck, and that was when the black sand dug itself deep into hand and up my arm. I screamed in agony as the glass-like grains traveled up my arm, I fell to the floor with my hand still in his. Finally, after what seemed like a decade, the dark man's grip loosened, and I was free. I writhed in agonizing pain, and I willed it to go away. The man towered over my pitiful body.

"Have you ever wondered the kind of pain your sister goes through?" he sneered. "All the fear, the voices, the worry, have you ever wanted to know what it would be like to have a glimpse of that hell?"

I gasped for breath, but my body responded with a jab of pain. He crouched down next to my head as he pulled a hair that was caught in my mouth. I couldn't speak, but he could tell that I was listening, wondering what his point was.

"It feels just… like… this…" he whispered down to me with his lowered eyes and disgusted expression. He traced the lining of my cheekbone with his gray finger.

I attempted to stand up before he got to me, but I was too slow, and he was over me in seconds. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled. I yelled in anguish as he yanked at the follicles of my brown, long hair and he was in my face again.

"Was that one real enough for you?" he jeered. He laughed at his tasteless joke.

I heard another noise, a buzz, over his maniacal laughter. My consciousness was slipping and then black.

Pitch Black.


	6. Chapter 6: Something Wicked

Pitch was exhausted from beating up the young girl into a bloody pulp. It had been awhile since Pitch gave a good bashing, especially since the Guardians sicked his Nightmares on him a decade ago.

Pitch shivered as the memory of the Nightmares tearing him limb from limb grew more resonated through his brain. The Nightmares not only ripped him apart physically but they also picked apart his mind; crushing the most sensitive parts of his memories and fears. He remembered as he lied there dying, a familiar voice came to him once more. An ancient ally from the very beginning of his original quest of dousing the universe into darkness. It dragged his limbs back to reunited them; filling him with the energy and strength to fight off the Nightmares and obliterate them. Once the Nightmares were gone the voice began to fill his head with insults; telling him how pathetic his plans were. Once the voice calmed down, it informed him that they had one last chance of accomplishing all they had ever wanted. It told Pitch of a new plan the Man in the Moon himself was formulating with a new Guardian in mind.

"We have to get to them first," the voice whispered in his mind. "Before MiM does,"

Pitch frowned. "But how will we know who it is?" Pitch had argued with the voice in the tunnels. "There are millions of people on this cursed planet, how will we know which one?"

"Patience," The voice reassured him. "We will watch MiM, he will, sooner or later, reveal the new Guardian's identity, and when he does,"

The voice paused and gave a dark chuckle.

"We will be there, ready,"

And Pitch and the voice did. It wasn't long until they noticed the Moon's concentration on a particular household that held a young girl named Bernadette. She was only seven at the time, which confused Pitch, even more, when they entered her room through the closet.

"This is MiM's secret weapon?" Pitch scoffed as he stood next to the young child, sleeping soundly.

"Looks can be deceiving," The voice lectured. "We wouldn't want to underestimate anyone again, now would we?"

Pitch knew the voice was referring to a not only his immortal enemy, Jack Frost but also of the young child he had with him. He had underestimated them both paid dearly for that mistake.

Pitch watched as the young Bernadette's chest rose and fell softly with a stern look.

"Are we sure she's the one?" Pitch questioned the voice. "It could be possible that MiM is using her to distract us,"

"Why would he distract you? Everyone thinks you're dead, remember? Besides, take a look out the window," The voice suggested.

Pitch hesitated for a moment but decided to humor the voice. He maneuvered around the toys that were left sprawled on the ground and reached the window. To Pitch's advantage, the young girl kept her blinds closed, obstructing the Moon's light. If the Moon couldn't shine through, then he couldn't see Pitch or what he was doing.

Pitch peaked through the blinds and was surprised to see that standing in the yard next to a tree was a woman.

A tall woman, with long black hair and fair skin.

"Blast it!" Pitch cursed. "It's that woman!" Pitch was angry for a moment, but just for a moment. For he then realized that if she was there, it was because she was protecting something; something essential.

"You see?" The voice purred. "That woman wouldn't waste her time on just anybody,"

Pitch hid from the window. One could never be too cautious; he thought to himself as he inched away from it.

"Now what do we do?" Pitch said in a hushed tone as to not awaken the sleeping Bernadette,"

"Take her," The voice ordered. "If we get rid of her, we could ruin MiM's puny little plan and finally purge the world of his light,"

Pitch tiptoed back to the small bed that held the child. He leaned over to get a proper stance before he grabbed her. But, as he was about to steal her away, her eyes flickered open.

Pitch stood frozen like a statue while young Bernadette yawned and rubbed her eyes with her tiny hands. She blinked a couple of time and looked up at the dark figure.

"Daddy?" The child mumbled.

Something inside Pitch shattered. Those words somehow brought something back to him. Something he had forgotten long ago, but couldn't quite grasp what it was. He was so close to remembering when the seven-year-old girl's eyes grew into two round orbs.

"You're not my dad," Her voice trembled as she pulled her covers to her chin.

Pitch snapped back into the moment.

"No, I'm not your father," Pitch hissed at the girl.

Tears began to form in the child's eyes. "Daddy!" The girl cried out.

"Daddy can't save you," Pitch toyed with her.

Pitch then ripped the sheet from on top of the young Bernadette and dragged her out of bed. She was about to scream, but Pitch clasped his hand over her mouth. As the girl struggled, he picked her up and carried her to the closet. Pitch was almost to his exit when the girl sunk her small sharp teeth into his hand. Pitch yelped silently in pain and released the fearful girl. She was about to run out the bedroom door when Pitch shot out his injured hand and grabbed a fistful of hair. Young Bernadette followed his hand, screaming in pain as he yanked her up off the ground. Pitch used his other hand to grab her shirt. Their faces leveled and Pitch could see the details in the young child's iris'.

"Why are you doing this?" The girl asked in a crying panic. Her fear then hit Pitch like a bullet. He had never experienced anxiety like hers before; it was intoxicating, and he was almost consumed by how delicious her fear was.

Pitch didn't answer right away as he tried to regain some control over himself. He swallowed and finally told her "It's all because of you," It was all he was able to mutter.

There was a big thump that caused both young Bernadette and Pitch to look away from each other and at the door. Both had recognized them as the sound of footsteps.

"Get out of there!" The voice rang in his ears.

Pitch dropped the girl in a hurry and dove into the closet right before the door swung open to reveal two worried parents. He stood and watched as her parents lifted the crying child off the floor and doted on her.

After that, reaching her again was nearly impossible. Every time he would even step into her room she would get nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat. He didn't mind though, every time she'd wake up scared he'd have a small taste of that fear he had experienced on his first visit. Sometimes he'd visit her only to have a little more of that little girl from long ago. Unfortunately for him, it got to the point where she would avoid sleeping. She would do anything to keep herself awake until finally she got used to it. She wouldn't sleep anymore, but Pitch still watched her, waiting for an opening to strike.

Pitch leaned on a piece of the iron globe and frowned.

There was one time; however, he was able to get close to her but was foiled by the tall woman who watched her. Pitch knew if he were going to take Bernadette he would have to get rid of the tall woman once and for all. What he didn't plan was her reaching out to Bernadette the way she did. It made kidnapping her even more difficult

"But all of that is about to change," Vocalized Pitch to himself.

His voice echoed in the large tunnel, bouncing off the wall, the cages, and the broken stone bridge. He animated a small version of Bernadette within his palm with black sand and smirked.

"All because of you," He mouthed. Then he tilted his hand, and the small figure toppled over; landing in the ground to its death.


	7. Chapter 7: Don't Fall Asleep

"No!" I screamed as I bolted up in sweat and tears.

It took a moment for it to dawn on me that I was back in my real room and not the nightmarish version that I escaped. Relieved that I was home, I sighed and realized my mouth tasted like iron. I rubbed my finger against my inner lip and pulled it out to find that it was covered in blood. In fact, my whole face was covered in dried blood. The rest of me was drenched in sweat and onyx, black sand. The sand made me think of Pitch which then traveled to his rage. Just thinking about his face made my shoulders tremble with fear and a tear crept down my cheek.

"No," I thought to myself. "You have to be strong, Bernadette. No one's here to protect you, not know,"

I lifted a hand to wipe the tear away but was greeted with pain from my stomach. The pain I felt had utterly convinced me that this wasn't just a dream. It was the undeniable reality.

And that's when the reality hit me.

I clasped my hand over my mouth. What have I done? I gambled my life on a lame bet with the devil himself. That evil look on his face could give me nightmares for days. I never wanted to see it again. Unfortunately, I knew he was going to come back and try to make me say those stupid words. I decided to divert my attention to the moon's light that tried to peek through my blinds

I raised myself up with the help of my desk chair. My knees were wobbly and weak, and I hobbled over to the window where I lifted a blind just a crack. It was still night outside, but yet my room was brightly lit. It was almost magical; the moon was shining brighter than usual as if it was trying to tell me something. As I looked at the moon, I remembered Emily mentioning a man in the moon.

"The Man in the Moon looked out of the moon, Looked out of the moon and said, 'Tis time for all children, on the earth to think about going to bed," I recited under my breath.

A forlorn frown etched itself across my face. The nursery rhyme was read to me as a child in hopes to put me to sleep; now it only leaves anguish as it reminded me that I never could go to sleep.

I used my right hand to help me travel to my bed with the chair when something dark caught my eye. The veins in my wrist and forearm were bulging an ashy dark grey color and in the middle of my palm was a black scar.

" Oh no," I uttered in disbelief.

It was there, clear as day. The purple and blue bruises around my veins were rich, dark and noticeable against my ivory skin. I caressed the mark, and it echoed a soft pain. No surprise there.

"What did he do to me?" I asked myself, but of course, I didn't have an answer, just a blank, worried stare.

The handshake after our deal flashed into my mind. What did it mean? Was I branded as his play thing as he messed with my mind? Or was this just another form of abuse Pitch was enacting on me?

Another tear fell, another, and another until I was a blubbering mess. The reality of being beaten had just dawned on me, and it was giving me flashbacks of the feelings I had as a kid. It fueled my fear into maximum capacity, and I started twitching. I needed to get these feelings out of my system now, or I'd break down later.

I winced as I struggled to the bathroom and started stripping my clothes off. I turned the shower on, stepped into it and allowed the noise of the water drown out my loud sobs. The exhaustion in my bones thickened as I pushed all the feelings of fear, anger, guilt out of my system. I thought about the deal that I made up on the stop and the conditions I added at the end. I knew this Pitch character was going to cut corners every chance he got.

My hands balled into a fist. I wasn't going to let him beat me into submission. I was going to leave my fate up to me and no one else. I was going to fight.

I climbed out of the shower, tied my blue robe on and ran downstairs. I knew my dad had boxes full of tools, perfect for defense, in the garage. When I had arrived at the garage, I flipped the switch, revealing a dark, dirty garage. I immediately started rummaging through the boxes I knew had the tools I wanted. A pair of shears, a drywall blade (perfect for cutting), a large wrench that I could barely lift, and a tire iron, and a crowbar. I transferred these tool into an empty box, and I carried them out of the garage. Still not satisfied with what I had, I went to the kitchen and swiped our sharpest cooking knife and my Mom's pepper spray she left in her purse on the counter. Finally, I traveled back to my room and plopped the box of miscellaneous items on my bed. Then I booby trapped my room, hiding the tools behind the furniture, drawers, and even under my pillow. I kept the pepper and knife under my pillow, just in case Pitch was going to jump me while I slept, or when I tried to anyway.

I carefully laid my head on my pillow and relaxed for the first time that evening. To my surprise, I was so exhausted that when my eyes had shut, I fell asleep and dreamed.

We had the black suburban at the time when we drove to the see Charlotte at the Mental Institution. I was behind my parents while Joel was sitting next to me; Martin and Henry were in the back looking out of their windows. Everyone was uncommonly silent, but we had a good reason for it. My dear older sister Charlotte had a terrible episode a couple of months back, and we were driving up to see her. It was I who found her screaming in her room, scratching at herself. She raved about a man named Dark who had black hair and red eyes and how the walls were bleeding out filling her room with the thick substance. I remember her eyes were almost not her own as she tried to rub the imaginary blood off her hands. We hadn't suspected Charlotte to lose it as suddenly as she did, but that's what happened. And now, we were going to check in to see how she was doing after all this time.

"Make sure you give the lady at the front desk the basket for your sister. They have to check it just in case there's something harmful to Charlotte," My mom explained to Joel, who was holding the care basket full of treats and some knick-knacks.

The basket was a gift from all the ladies at our church. After they heard about my sister checking into the hospital, they decided to chip in and make her some cards and a basket. I thought it was very kind of them.

We arrived at a large, white building with the words "Pheonix Mental Institution" lettered professionally on the front. I had to crane my neck up high to see the blue lettering. We parked near the entrance of the hospital, and we all exited the vehicle. I was nervous to go inside. I had watched movies where the people with a mental health condition were all scary, and the place was filthy and gross. I didn't want that for my sister, but to my relief, when we entered it didn't have patients walking around crazed and troubled or scary doctors. It was furnished with warm couches and wallpaper. There were plants here and there, and not a single doctor was seen. All that was there was the room and an older woman at the front desk. We walked to the front desk, and my mother started talking to the woman, Joel walked over and handed the front desk lady the basket. She took it with a smile and said that she would deliver it to my sister personally after they checked the contents.

"We have an appointment to see our daughter," My father informed the front desk.

"Alright, which two is going to visit today?" Asked the lady who had her head down, scribbling something on the visiting papers.

"Two? I thought all of us could visit," My dad assumed.

"Oh my, did no one tell you?" The older woman with the half moon glasses asked with a worried look. "Only two people can visit a patient at a time. It's the Institution's policy since any more than two can upset the patient or any of the others. I guarantee it's for your safety and the patient's,"

My parents argued with the woman for a few moments. I didn't pay much attention to their argument I just stared at the sad clown painting that they had on the wall. I found it weird how much I could relate to the middle-aged man in makeup with the outrageously massive bow on his neck.

"C'mon Bernadette," My mom ushered me. "You and I are going to see your sister,"

"What about the others?" I questioned.

"Don't worry, they'll see her another time, but for now it's just you and me," She assured as she extended her hand for me to take it.

I wrapped my hand around hers as we walked through the door that had two sets of mechanical locks. My mom's hand gripped tighter as we walked down the and I knew she was more nervous than I was. We entered into what looked like the lunch room and found my sister sitting on one of the tables. I had imagined her with a hospital gown with an I.V. up her arm, but she was in her usual clothes sitting and waving at us.

My mother immediately ran to her and hugged her. I followed suit, and we were all hugging each other and laughing. When we were finished, we sat down, and we talked to her. She said she was fine and only sometimes had episodes. We spoke of other thing and updated her on the latest gossip at home until Charlotte asked my mother if she could get her a drink of water. My mother nodded and sought after the cup of water my sister had requested. Once she disappeared my sister's face changed into a stoic expression and she grabbed my arm and pulled me to her.

"Watch yourself, Bernadette," Charlotte whispered to me. "He's coming after you,"

"Charlotte let go!" I hissed back at her. "You're hurting me,"

"Dark is coming after you! You need to prepare if he comes to you," She warned with a crazy look in her eyes.

"Charlotte, Dark isn't real," I insisted. "He's just a result of your Psychosis! Look, I'm going to be fine, it's you who needs to be worried about yourself,"

Charlotte grew sterner and she forced me closer. In a hushed tone she whispered the words in my ear:

"Don't fall asleep,"

She released me, and my mother arrived with my sister's water.

"What are you two talking about?" My mother smiled. "Is it secret sister stuff?"

"Yeah," My sister falsely laughed. "Y'know me and Bernadette, just telling each other secrets," My sister stared at me, and I nodded hesitantly.

"Alright," My mother looked at her phone. "We have to go, Bernadette, say goodbye to your sister,"

I gave a small smile and said goodbye, Charlotte nodded, and we both headed out. I turned to see my sister mouthing the words again.

"Don't fall asleep,"


End file.
